


Machinae

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-09
Updated: 2003-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a boy and his space-ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machinae

## Machinae

by Becca

[]()

* * *

Machinae 

June 1992 

Clark had a vague, sneaking suspicion that something very big was happening. The details of it escaped him, but he was just _so sure_ that something incredibly important was going on, and that he just needed to figure out what it was. 

He wasn't quite sure how he came to the conclusion that this big _thing_ was, in fact, buried treasure, but once Clark had figured that out, the world started making a bit more sense. Yes, he was pretty sure that was it. In fact, he was almost positive that it was. There was treasure hidden in the ground, and it was up to Clark to find it. 

But clawing at the earth cut up Pete's fingers pretty bad, and besides, he said it was _boring_ to spend every single recess digging in the dirt, so Clark was left to look for it all by himself. It didn't really matter, since Clark knew this was something he had to do alone. And there probably wasn't any treasure hidden behind the monkey-bars anyway. 

The vegetable garden had seemed like a good place to look, but it turned out that the only things buried there were seeds. Dad had told him that they would turn into treasure if Clark left them in the ground long enough. Clark didn't really know exactly _what_ kind of treasure he hoped to find, but since he was almost entirely positive that it wasn't carrots and cucumbers, he left the garden alone. 

After a while Dad had gotten tired of finding deep, round holes circling the barn and in the pastures. So they decided that if he left the fields alone, they would take Clark out to a random pasture or playground, and let him dig for as long as he wanted, if he promised to fill the holes back up when he was done. 

He may have been doing this for a while, or not, when he finally found something. One day Clark was sitting cross-legged, sifting dirt through his fingers, and wondering when he could find the stupid treasure, just so he could stop looking, when he saw it. Something bright, shiny and metallic, and covered with dirt, and he knew right away that this was _it_. This was definitely the _treasure_. 

He ran up to his mom, who'd looked at his prize for a long minute, before wrapping him in a hug, and reminding him how she knew he could do it. 

Once they got back in the truck, however, Clark started to examine his treasure. Now that the excitement had worn off, he could actually take a minute to really look at it. And he realized that this wasn't treasure that it was just an old piece of tinfoil that someone had thrown in the dirt. This was really, really disappointing, and for a minute, Clark almost started to cry. But Mom was still smiling and looking so proud, and he knew he couldn't let her down. Besides, there was a lesson in this. There had to be. 

Obviously, Clark wasn't going to be able to find the treasure just yet. He would have to wait a few years, until he was older and could dig deeper. 

* * *

November 2001

It was weird how sex fantasies could get so out of control. Clark had heard enough masturbatory horror stories to know that he was lucky that he'd never accidentally fantasized about old women, or dogs, or his mother's best friend, or something really weird. But this was... still really weird. 

Maybe he should have been more worried that his recent fantasies all involved Lex, but really, that wasn't such a big deal. The pamphlets from the health room made it very clear that it was _completely normal_ to do that. That it didn't make you gay at all, that everyone thought about doing wild, naked stuff with cool older guys who were kinda their best friends. 

But no one in the history of everything had ever said it was healthy to image doing wild, naked things on top of a damn _space ship_. 

Not that they started out there, but that's where the lack of control came in. It had never happened when he had thought about Lana, or Britney Spears, or just the vague breasts and hips and thighs that had populated his early fantasies. But then, the Lex-thing and the alien-thing had happened at the same time, so it kinda made sense that they were tied together. 

It wasn't like Lex didn't inspire a whole lot of diversely dirty thoughts. There was just something about him that equaled sex, so there was certainly no shortage of possible ways for them to do it. But no matter where they started, he and Lex always ended up in the stupid storm cellar, on top of the stupid ship. 

Clark knew that this probably meant something very important, and that if he took even a minute to think about it he would get what it all meant. But navel-gazing just wasn't something he _did_ , and besides, he didn't get why anything else in his life happened, so why should this be any different? 

* * *

April 2003

Clark wondered exactly how malleable the metal in his ship was. It had to be pretty tough, since it went through space, and all that. But he was strong, and so it might not take a lot of effort for him to destroy it. 

For the past hour, Clark had been sitting next to the ship, and imagining ways to destroy it. His current favorite was to break it into itty bits, and then throw the pieces into the ocean. Or maybe he could melt it down, and remold it into a statue. One of Lex, since that might shut him up about the whole caves-superpowers-brain dead linguist thing. He might even carve `Would You Just Forget About It Already?' onto the head. Then maybe Lex would actually just leave him _alone_. 

Or maybe he should do a Lex imitation, and beat the hell out of it with a golf club, or a baseball bat, or a shovel, or something. But the thing seemed pretty powerful, and he didn't want it to accidentally impregnate someone else. 

Clark idly wondered if this was what space travel was like... Moving a million miles an hour, but never actually getting anywhere. And nothing was familiar; nothing was allowed to be familiar. Once you got used to one thing, suddenly everything changed and you had to deal with something else. It just didn't seem like he even got _five minutes_ just to rest and figure this out. He knew that this wasn't the _ships_ fault, but Clark needed to hate something, and it was pretty easy to hate things that could talk. 

He took a slight risk, and kicked the ship lightly. It wasn't even a tap, but he still froze, afraid he would be hit with _another_ beam of knowledge, one that would probably outline exactly how he was supposed to take over the world. Nothing happened, so he kicked it again, just a little harder. Somehow, that helped. 


End file.
